


The Daughter of the Sea

by Avalain_Nightshade



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forced Relationship, Friendship/Love, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Third Person Limited, Pirates, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avalain_Nightshade/pseuds/Avalain_Nightshade
Summary: Ophelia Bennett has been in love with her best friend, Will Turner, for years. When he's sentenced to death for crimes against the Crown, Ophelia promises to marry Lord Beckett for Will's pardon. She swears to do anything to ensure that Will gets to live his happily ever after, even at the cost of her own.(90k words in total, complete story is on FFN within the author's note of the first chapter)
Relationships: Davy Jones (Pirates of the Caribbean) & Original Female Character(s), Jack Sparrow & Original Female Character(s), Will Turner & Original Female Character(s), Will Turner/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Will's Return

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening, everyone. Welcome to my story! This story is 100% completed on FFN and I am simply cross-posting it here now that I have my Ao3 account, acquired on December 28, 2020. If you happen to like the story and don't mind using fanfiction.net, here's the link to the completed story below:
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12075918/1/The-Daughter-of-the-Sea
> 
> I'll be updating this every Wednesday and Saturday until it's complete. Thank you for reading my note, and please feel free to leave any comments below as well. Have a great day :)

* * *

“In the name of God, William Turner, I can’t take my eyes off you for ten minutes before you do something rash and life-threatening!”

William Turner simply laughed. “I am sorry for worrying you, Ophelia—but I am here now, and that is what matters.” His brown eyes regarded his friend’s face, a light and apologetic smile on his lips. “How have you been the past couple of months?”

Ophelia raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of topic. As worried as she had been about her greatest friend the past half year, she was even more relieved to find him in front of her now. He had disappeared one night when a bunch of cursed pirates from the _Black Pearl_ opened fire on Port Royal. Said pirates had taken Elizabeth Swann, the governor’s daughter, captive, and of course Will simply _had_ to go after her and nearly get himself killed in the process.

“I’ve been bored,” she responded, seizing a thick woolen blanket and draping it around Will’s shoulders. Seeing as Will had returned late at night in the middle of a rainstorm and had given Elizabeth his jacket to keep her dry, Ophelia felt it was her responsibility to make sure Will would not catch a cold.

“Bored?” asked Will.

“Yes, bored,” she confirmed, moving to strike up a fire in the fireplace. “You’re mad if you think Mr. Brown would’ve practiced swordplay with me. I’ve had to practice all by myself!”

At this, a smirk formed on Will’s face. “If that’s the case, we have a lot of work to do.”

Choosing to ignore Ophelia’s protests, he stood up and grabbed two swords. He handed one hilt first to the woman; the other he extended her direction. “Are you ready? One—two—”

“Will, you need to _rest,_ ” she retorted, but it didn’t look like Will would be having any of it.

“Three!”

Right when Will said this, he lunged toward her. Ophelia yelped and quickly parried; despite him catching her off-guard, she was able to regain her balance. Even though her mentor and friend had been gone the past five months, she was pleased to see that she was holding her own against him rather well.

“Ha!” exclaimed Ophelia, leaping back to avoid Will’s sword. “Is this all you can do? I would’ve thought that your journey improved your skill!”

Will glared at her as if she’d just issued a personal insult. “You will regret saying that, Ophie!”

She merely laughed and danced out of his reach.

For a while more, with Will assessing her performance the way he always did, they sparred. It went on for a time until at last he got the best of the engagement and disarmed her. Nonetheless, Ophelia was pleased to notice that Will seemed winded.

“Very good!” he exclaimed. “Very good… you _have_ been practicing!”

“Three hours a day,” she grinned. “Just like you.”

Will chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with something that Ophelia hoped was pride. “That’s good to hear.”

“How much did you have to fight during your journey?”

Now he shook his head. “More than you’d like to hear.”

“The exploits would be a most wonderful tale, I’m sure,” she giggled, feeding the fire with new coals. She gently guided him toward the fireplace and sat him down on a barrel in front of it. “Tell me about it.”

She was answered with a crooked smile. “Very well. It was a long journey with Captain Jack… we started by hijacking a ship from the navy and commandeered a cursed pirate ship from there. Have you ever heard of those old curses? The ones about pirate gold?”

Ophelia blinked. “I don’t believe I have. What was the curse?”

“The curse of immortality… if anyone touched or spent the gold of the Aztecs, they would never die.”

“That hardly sounds like a curse.” Ophelia’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “Wouldn’t most people want to live forever?”

Will shrugged and muttered, his voice low, “That was their thinking. But after many long years, the men lost their sense of taste or feel. They could not enjoy life as they once had… food and water turned to ash in their mouths, physical touch became nothing… and in the moonlight, their very bodies would waste away to skeletons. They were simply undead—and could not be killed.”

“And you fought them?” Ophelia’s whisper was of a horrified fascination.

He offered her a hesitant smile. “Not alone. But yes…”

There was a silence as Ophelia processed this information. She loved Will immensely—he was the most important person in her life. She had fallen in love with him years ago, and had been his friend for much longer. She had been worried about him for so long… but now he was back, safe—home.

“Well,” she sighed, “the next time you go off to fight cursed pirates, be sure to take me with you. I would bet I could’ve made the journey at least _somewhat_ easier for you.” This last was said with a knowing smirk, one that Will did not miss.

He laughed and placed an arm around her shoulder. “Very well,” he promised. “Everything was in disarray when I left. Now, though—if it comforts you, I promise that we shall remain together, through whatever chaos.”

Ophelia smiled, indeed comforted. She remembered the first time he had told her they’d remain together… the first time they met.

* * *

_—At twelve years of age, Ophelia was slowly but surely starving on the streets. She had been rummaging through a waste pile in the back alley by the bakery when a young voice asked, “What are you doing?”_

_Ophelia leapt back, startled. She didn’t think anyone would want to chase her if she were rooting through a waste pile. Sheepishly, she hid the apple core she’d found behind her back and glanced upon the person who’d caught her. It was a young boy, not much older than herself._

_“Well?” asked the boy, his dark eyes curious. His hair was tied back, and there were grimy stains on his clothes._

_The girl sighed and silently held out the apple core._

_The boy moved forward and stared at it. His eyes moved to her gaunt figure and pale face. “Are you trying to get something to eat?”_

_She nodded, ashamed to admit it._

_And yet, the boy didn’t look disgusted. If anything, he looked sad. Nonetheless, he smiled at her—the first act of kindness Ophelia had received in a long, long time._

_“I have some money. I’ve been saving it,” said the boy, extending his hand to show her seven coins. Ophelia could see glints of silver in his palm. “Maybe we could both get something to eat. I’m hungry, too.”_

_She blinked again and stared at him before simply asking, “Why?”_

_He shrugged. “We’re both hungry. And you won’t get anything good to eat like **that**.”_

_“I… have nothing to give back to you,” she confessed, shuffling her feet._

_The boy hummed for a second before gazing her up and down and exclaiming, a bright light in his eyes, “You can be my friend.”_

_Ophelia’s gaze shot back to his face. She had never thought that someone would ever offer her a piece of bread, much less an invitation of friendship. She worried that perhaps the boy might change his mind later, and thus was terrified of accepting._

_“What’s your name?” he asked._

_“Ophelia. You?”_

_“Will.”_

_She nodded and tried to smile, but Ophelia was afraid it looked more like a grimace. Just then, her stomach rumbled—embarrassed, she glanced at the ground. But when she looked back up, Will was grinning._

_“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get some lunch. It can be you and me. Together.”_

_This almost seemed too much to hope for. “Together? As… friends?”_

_“Sure!” Will seemed no less than delighted by her speaking the word, as if her merely acknowledging it was enough to give him hope. “We can be friends. We can do everything together.”_

_Ophelia finally allowed herself to smile. She’d never had a real friend before. “Everything?” she asked._

_“Everything,” he confirmed, nodding. He held out a hand, and Ophelia shook it. “Now let’s get some lunch.”—_

* * *

Ophelia was suddenly brought out of her thoughts by Will’s voice.

“What are you thinking about? You have that look.”

Knowing that she couldn’t simply deny it, Ophelia chuckled sheepishly. “I was just thinking about the first day we met. It seems so long ago, and yet… like yesterday.”

Will grinned at her and tightened his grip around her shoulder. “It was a very fortunate day for us both.”

“More for me than you,” she laughed, but Will would have none of it. He waved off her comment and simply sat, staring at the fire… Ophelia noticed that it was now _he_ who was drifting off into his own thoughts.

Right when she was about to ask what he was thinking about, he blurted out, “Ophelia, I must ask if I can tell you something off topic?”

He sounded anxious, for some reason. Ophelia withheld her frown. He didn’t need to feel nervous to tell her anything. They were best friends, after all.

She was not conscious of replying, “Yes, of course. You know you can tell me anything.”

Will smiled again; that was another thing Ophelia had missed. He always seemed to reserve a specific smile just for her, and he wore it now when he said, “I know I can, do not worry. Anyway… I know this seems sudden, and hardly anyone knows… but I just wanted to tell you—Elizabeth and I are going to be married in the spring.”

Ophelia blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “Married?”

“Yes—her father has approved it already, when we returned just a few hours ago. As my best friend, I value your opinion. What do you think?”

Seeing the hopeful look on Will’s face, Ophelia swallowed back the burning in her throat and blinked the tears out of her eyes. She would never dream of doing anything to withhold his happiness. Seeing the hope and joy in his face as he said Elizabeth’s name, Ophelia knew she could never tell him her true feelings.

And so she replied, “Oh, Will, I think—I think that’s _wonderful._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

The town was bustling, never mind that it was the ungodly hour of five in the morning. People were walking here and there, to the market, the tanner, the bakery. As everyone went about their morning chores, Ophelia Bennett entered the bakery to fetch some strawberry pastries, wearing a formal pink dress she’d sewn herself.

“G’morning, Ophelia!” exclaimed the baker as she entered. “Here to pick up somethin’ o’ Master Turner’s? I hear he’s already hard at work!”

Ophelia smiled; she too heard the loud clanging of metal as Will worked in the forge. “Indeed he is, but oddly so, in my opinion. He **_should_** be getting ready.”

The baker laughed and slammed a hand down on the table, his face red and his mood jovial. “That’s right!” he recalled, wagging a finger her direction. “Today is the wedding!”

Though Ophelia still wore her smile, her gaze became a little sad. “You are correct! Do you like the dress I’ve made for it?”

“It looks lovely, Miss Bennett,” answered the baker, his round face red with joy. “By this point, I’ve gotten used to seeing you create beautiful dresses for many women around Port Royal!”

The woman laughed lightly and waved a dismissive hand. She had only made a couple dresses for others… her sewing skills were nowhere near the caliber she would need to have if she ever wished to open her own shop. Nonetheless, the baker’s flattery brought a warm smile to her face. With a heartfelt farewell, Ophelia grabbed the pastries and paid the man before waving farewell and exiting.

As she returned to the forge, Ophelia had to walk carefully to avoid being bumped into or having her dress stepped on. At last, however, she rounded the corner and arrived at her destination. She knew the place so well—since the age of twelve, Ophelia had been the Turner’s apprentice. Her friendship with Will Turner was a fast one; before long, they would be often found playing with the pigs or cows. She taught him how to snag the freshest, juiciest apple from the apple trees, and he taught her how to forge a sword or temper metal in return.

When she stepped inside, Ophelia inhaled deeply and faked the deepest voice she could muster. “Pardon me, Master Turner, but I have a request!”

The hammer Will held stopped in midair. “And what would your request be, **_sir?_** ”

Dropping her pretense, Ophelia laughed and said, “That you stop working and eat some breakfast.”

Will chuckled and turned around, his smock already grimy with smoke and ash. As usual, there was a single streak of gray lining his cheek. “I suppose I could do that,” he grinned, laying down the hammer and walking to Ophelia.

She held out a pastry as he approached. “Open.”

He did; she laughed as he bit the pastry and some of the strawberry jam stained his shirt. But Will simply shrugged amiably. “Doesn’t matter,” he exclaimed, waving off the pink blotch on his white shirt. His brown eyes were cheerful as he added, “I won’t be wearing it for long!”

Ophelia smiled at his good mood and chastised him, “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be preparing? This day only comes once in a man’s life, you know.”

“That it does, but I have all of daylight until the ceremony. You worry over me too much, Ophelia, whether I am battling pirates or my appearance for my wedding.” With that, he shook his head, a light smile at the corner of his lips, and returned to the hammer.

“Oh, for goodness sake, put that hammer down,” she commanded, hands on her hips. “You work too hard. Do you not deserve a day off?”

“There you go again,” laughed Will without looking at her.

Though Ophelia wanted nothing more than to laugh, she took care to keep her voice stern. “You force me to, William Turner. You are a magnet for trouble.”

Ophelia felt rather than saw him grin with his next comment. “Aye, I won’t argue with you there.” Then he resumed pounding the blacksmith hammer upon the sword he was crafting.

With a huff, she set down the basket of pastries and grabbed a hammer herself. “Well, if you insist on working, I might as well ease your workload.”

“Whoa, there, not so fast,” protested Will, seeing her raise the tool. She stopped in mid-swing and glanced at him questioningly. He shot her a look and forcibly took the hammer from her, smirking as he did. “I forbid you from working in my forge today,” he declared. “Though we may almost always work together, today, you are already dressed; I will not have you soil the dress you worked so hard to make. You’ve spent two months on it. I won’t see you ruin it after all your work.”

Ophelia sighed, but did as he pleaded, if only because it was his wedding day. “Well, William, if you insist on being stubborn, I will go elsewhere so I might actually be useful. Have the decorations for the reception been set up?”

“Governor Swann is attending to it. I wish you would stay here in the forge for a little while longer. I am not going to be here for another three weeks, and I will miss my best friend while I am gone.”

She chuckled softly. “Perhaps, but you deserve the time off with your wife to-be.”

“Maybe… but perhaps while I am gone, you might give me the hope of attending **_your_** wedding someday soon?”

Ophelia laughed and shook her head. “I do not know about that…”

“Come on, Ophie,” he crooned, setting down the hammer and placing a hand on her shoulder. Ophelia smiled at the old nickname. “You degrade yourself. You are beautiful and kind and intelligent. Any man would be lucky to have you as his wife.”

“We shall see about that, Will,” she sighed heavily. Ophelia was uncertain about if she would ever find a man she would love more than Will. The task was daunting at best—impossible at worst. “I will keep an open eye and heart.”

“Excellent. You are turning twenty-four next year… I hope to see you happy by that time.”

Each word was a dagger to her heart, but of course Ophelia could not say as much. “I hope so, too, Will. But for today, let us focus on **_you._** I will go help Elizabeth’s father finish the decorations. I shall see you later.” She spoke quickly, knowing that if he pleaded her to stay again, she would be unable to decline him.

So she simply kissed his hand and walked out.

For the next six hours, Ophelia and Governor Swann completed the outdoor preparations. When they were finished, the small clearing overlooking the ocean was almost unrecognizable, bedecked in gorgeous shades of cream and white and gold. Bouquets were set on every table, ribbons of ivory decorated the pews, and buffet tables were placed and ready to be filled. The two exchanged courteous smiles and thanks for the other’s help before spending the rest of the day preparing for the ceremony.

Just before sunset, Ophelia thought to check on Will. When she reached his room, she knocked and asked, “Will? Are you in there?”

But the door was not answered by Will. Instead, a short man wearing a white powdered wig greeted her. His voice was cold and formal as he stated, “Good evening, miss. Are you looking for Mr. Turner?”

“I am,” she confirmed. “Do you know where Will is?”

At the mention of his name, Will was brought forth. Shackles were on his wrist, and two men surrounded him.

Ophelia gasped. “What is the meaning of this?”

“That is none of your concern, miss,” said the same man with the hard voice. “If you care for elaboration, feel free to follow us.”

Knowing that if she were to speak again, she might get herself or Will into trouble, Ophelia kept silent and followed the men as they trudged out to where she and Governor Swann had just finished decorating.

Elizabeth was there, kneeling over fallen teacups. When she saw who stood behind her, however, she dropped the bouquet of flowers she was holding and rushed back to Will.

“Will!” she gasped, fear in her brown eyes. “Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” Will replied softly. He looked over her elegant dress and smiled. “You look beautiful.”

Elizabeth smiled too, though hers was hesitant. “I think it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

Ophelia moved forward and forced herself to put a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. Though Elizabeth was not Ophelia’s favorite person, she swore to always be kind and considerate towards her, seeing as she **_was_** her best friend’s fiancée. “Do not worry, Elizabeth. I am sure this gentleman shall explain what is happening.”

Said gentlemen smirked and gave Ophelia a once-over, though he was silent.

Just then, the Governor’s voice rang out. “Make way, let me through! How dare you! Stand your men down at once! Do you hear me?!”

The man turned to face Governor Swann, the cold formality still lacing his eyes and tone. “Governor Weatherby Swann, it’s been too long.”

“Cutler Beckett?”

“It’s Lord now, actually,” corrected Lord Beckett coolly.

“Lord or not, you have no reason and no authority to arrest this man,” declared Governor Swann.

“In fact, I do,” contested Lord Beckett. “Miss, would you come here, please?”

Ophelia was startled to realize that he had summoned **_her_** —knowing it could be dangerous to disobey, she obeyed the request. Once she stood next to him, he handed her a stack of parchment. “Hold these for me, please.” He rummaged through a number of papers before suddenly asking, “What is your name?”

She glanced at Will, who looked irritated and frankly, rather murderous. Then, turning back to Lord Beckett, she responded, “Ophelia Bennett.”

“Ophelia Bennett,” repeated Lord Beckett softly, his gray eyes scanning through the numerous documents she held. “I see. A-ha. Here it is. The warrant for the arrest of one William Turner.”

With these words, Lord Beckett held out the warrant for the Governor to take. And he did, perusing it before declaring faintly, “This warrant is for the arrest of Elizabeth Swann!”

“Is it? That’s annoying, my mistake. Arrest her.”

Some of the soldiers grabbed Elizabeth as she gasped, “On what charges?!”

Ignoring her, exclaimed Lord Beckett, “A-ha! **_Here_** is the one for William Turner. And I have another for a Mister James Norrington! Is he present?”

“As I understand it, he has resigned his commission and gone missing,” explained Ophelia, wondering what this man could possibly want to arrest the three people for. “He has not been seen around Port Royal for months.”

Lord Beckett glanced at her again, then nodded and opened his mouth to say something—but he was interrupted by Elizabeth, who exclaimed, “Lord Beckett! We are under the jurisdiction of the King’s Governor of Port Royal, and you will tell us what we are charged with.”

Governor Swann looked down at the warrant and read aloud, “The charge is ‘conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the Crown and Empire and condemned to death, for which the punishment…’” But the governor trailed off in horror.

“For which the punishment, regrettably, is also death,” finished Lord Beckett, cold eyes calculating their expressions. He stepped towards Will and added, “Perhaps you remember a certain pirate named Jack Sparrow.”

“Captain!” snarled both Elizabeth and Will at the same time.

Ophelia put a hand to her head. Will might have at least **_tried_** to fake innocence.

“Captain. Jack Sparrow,” corrected Elizabeth.

Lord Beckett appeared amused. “Captain Jack Sparrow… Yes, I thought you might.” He walked back to Ophelia, who was still holding his papers. He carefully took them from her and said, “Thank you, Miss Bennett.” His hand lightly brushed the inside of her wrist—his eyes landed upon hers for a second before turning away.

After a moment of quiet, Lord Beckett waved Will forth. “Come, Master Turner. There are a few things I have to discuss with you. Miss Swann will go to the cells for now—and Miss Bennett, please wait outside my office for me to discuss certain matters with **_you_** as well.”

Ophelia started and exchanged a worried glance with Will. They could say nothing as they were gestured towards Lord Beckett’s quarters… all they could do was wait and see what the man wished their presences for, for surely, it would not simply be for pleasantries.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I am bad at sticking to schedules. :) I'm going to put as many chapters up as I can at whatever time and not promise anything because otherwise I will disappoint people! Again, however, I do already have the completed story up on FFN, the link is in the author's notes for the first chapter if you don't mind using a different website. 
> 
> Thank you and have a great day!

* * *

“Miss Bennett, would you come inside, please?”

Upon hearing her summons, Ophelia took a deep breath and entered the room. She wondered what someone like Lord Beckett could **_possibly_** want with a simple woman such as herself—but she swallowed her anxiety as she stepped inside his elegant office.

Lord Beckett was not alone. A cartographer was painting intricate details of some islands in the Pacific Ocean on the far side of the wall. Ophelia watched fascinatedly for a moment before directing her attention to Lord Beckett, who was, in turn, watching **_her._**

"Miss Bennett,” he said, standing tall. He was barely taller than she, but the air with which the man held himself made him seem taller. “I have just had an interesting discussion with Master Turner. Shall I tell you about it?”

“If it is my place to hear of it, Lord Beckett,” she replied, knowing quite well that one wrong word could cost Will his life.

He seemed amused by her cautious compliance and moved forward. “I offered him the freedom of his fiancée, Elizabeth Swann, if he were to bring me back an item of Jack Sparrow’s. Have you met the pirate before?”

Ophelia shook her head. “I have not. I remained here, in Port Royal, when the band of pirates attacked us.”

Lord Beckett nodded. “That is good fortune for you, it would seem. I have requested that Master Turner fetch me a personal item of the pirate’s—a compass. It is quite invaluable, and its deliverance shall ensure Miss Swann’s release. When I send Turner to Jack Sparrow, he will have papers regarding a full pardon to give to him, so long as he swears compliance to the Eastern India Company.”

“Somehow, I do not believe the pirate Jack Sparrow will appreciate those letters,” mused Ophelia, glancing at the mural of the map again. “He is a pirate for a reason.”

“Perhaps you are right. But you have missed my point.”

“Your point?”

“I have guaranteed Elizabeth Swann her freedom in exchange for the compass. I am sending Master Turner letters of full pardon for Jack Sparrow. I have **_not,_** however, promised Master Turner himself anything regarding his **_own_** freedom.”

Hearing this, Ophelia blanched. If Will were to die, she would not know what to do with herself.

Knowing that she was expected to respond, she swallowed and asked, “And I suppose you would like something from me to guarantee his freedom? What can a woman such as myself give you, Lord Beckett?”

Instead of answering immediately, the man gazed over the room. Seeing that the cartographer had finished his last few strokes on the map, he dismissed him—the door closed with a loud _THUMP,_ which mirrored Ophelia’s heartbeat. She and Lord Beckett were now alone.

After another moment of silence, Lord Beckett said, “A simple girl like yourself is precisely what I would like. You are a woman of great beauty, Miss Bennett, as well one of good manner. And when I handed you those parchments… forgive me, but I could not help but notice an absence of a ring atop your gloves.”

Ophelia blinked, a wave of uncertainty washing over her as she questioned, “Is this… are you proposing for me to marry you in exchange for Will’s freedom?”

“I am not blind. I see that you care for him deeply,” said the Lord Beckett, a light smirk upon his lips. “That is most unfortunate for you, I am afraid. But it might also be most opportune. If you accept my offer, you may grow to discover that there shall be advantages in your status and lifestyle because of our marriage. The same, of course, could be said for me. While this arrangement may be political today, one day, you may grow to truly love me, and I you. I would be… eager to show you that I could treat you better than any blacksmith ever could.”

Ophelia restrained from sighing. Will was much more than just a blacksmith. “How can I be certain that you will spare him?”

“Do you not trust me?”

“It is not you whom I do not trust, but the law.”

Lord Beckett seemed unable to restrain a chuckle. He glanced out of the windows of his majestic office to gaze across the ocean and waved a hand towards her as if to summon her to follow—which she did. They took a brief moment to watch the happenings upon the harbor, the waves gently lapping at the docile shore. And then, after a minute or so of contemplative silence, the man said, “I suppose that is fair enough, Miss Bennett. I shall issue another official pardon for Master Turner upon his successful return.”

This statement comforted Ophelia more than she believed it would, although the prospect of accepting the offer of the Lord Beckett’s hand in marriage was still incredibly daunting. Of course she would accept—for Will, so he would live and be happy with Elizabeth—but she was uncertain about what her future would entail when she would say the words.

Her silence was noted. Lord Beckett turned back to her, a light apprehension in his eyes as he questioned, “Would you be willing to accept my offer?”

Ophelia let her eyes trail the man… he was not unattractive, although she did wish she could see what a smile would look like upon his face. His eyes were thoughtful, but still cold…

He reached out a hand and softly laid his palm against her face. She offered him a hesitant smile and, fortunately, it was returned. Oddly enough, that smile reached the depths of Beckett’s eyes.

It was this that prompted her to breathe in once… twice… and then reply, “Yes, Lord Beckett. I will accept your generous offer.”

Her words made the man’s smile deepen. “Then I shall obtain Master Turner’s documents, and begin marriage preparations.” His hand moved from her face to brush a lock of her deeply brown hair behind her ear. They looked at one another for a brief moment—and then Lord Beckett kissed her.

Ophelia was shocked at the sudden gesture, and frankly, uncertain how to interpret it. His lips felt cold, and it was only a fleeting gesture. She could not help but fear that her acceptance meant nothing to him, and that she would never truly occupy a place in his heart.

Once he pulled away, Lord Beckett smiled—though Ophelia felt that this too was taciturn—and declared, “This has been a very fruitful chat, Miss Bennett.”

Ophelia nodded to agree… but then, she realized something. She would not be able to bear it if Will went away again, and she was left at Port Royal with no idea if he was safe. She would sooner die than endure that torture again.

She had to say something.

“Lord Beckett, if I may…”

He nodded and waved a hand to let her know it was allowed.

Taking a deep breath, Ophelia interjected, “In order to be certain that Will shall live a happy life, I would like to accompany him to locate Jack Sparrow and be certain his mission succeeds. If he is to live, I would like him to live happily—and the only way he shall do that is if he marries Elizabeth. This means he must not fail. I would like to oversee that he does not.”

The Lord Beckett’s eyes widened somewhat at her request; whether that was due to fright or anger or both, Ophelia could not tell. “Do you realize the danger this quest might hold? If the pirate Jack Sparrow were to—to **_sully_** you or anything of the sort—”

“Will would never let anything happen to me,” she promised, taking care to keep her voice calm. “He is more than capable of protecting me.”

Ophelia did **_not_** add that she could perfectly well defend herself, thanks to years upon years of training. Seeing that Beckett was unconvinced, she reached out for his hand at his side and gently grasped it, murmuring, “I promise you, no man will lay a hand on me whilst I am gone. Would you be able to grant me this as a wedding gift?”

The pleading with which Ophelia spoke and portrayed seemed to weaken the Lord Beckett’s resolve. With a heavy sigh, he conceded. “Very well, Miss Bennett. If it shall make you happy, I will allow it.”

A great burden was lifted from Ophelia’s shoulders, although she took great care to mask it as she earnestly replied, “Thank you, Lord Beckett. You are most kind. I shall return soon.”

She squeezed his hand and released it before moving towards the exit—

“One last thing, Miss Bennett,” announced Lord Beckett’s voice. Ophelia moved back to face him as he walked towards her. He held something small in his palm, but she could not yet see what.

With great care, he gently grabbed her left hand—

“No, not that one,” she gasped, unable to help herself. “Please, use my other hand.”

Lord Beckett raised an eyebrow. “Why not the left, Miss Bennett?”

Seeing that she had to explain herself, Ophelia sighed and confessed, wringing her hands, “There is a scar… a jagged black bolt over the back of my hand. It has been there since I was an infant, and I do not know how I got it. It is no birthmark, and I worry that it shall… repulse you.”

“Nonsense,” scoffed Beckett, carefully removing the glove on her hand. He looked at the scar for a moment—it ran from one side of Ophelia’s hand to the other, and was as black as ever. It was like a darkened lightning bolt—she always attempted to cover it up, unless she was in the forge with Will, and Will alone.

But Lord Beckett did not seem perturbed by the mark, which surprised her. It was almost as if he did not even see the scar as he slipped a gold ring onto her third finger. Softly, he said, “This is for you to wear and remember.”

That was all he said, but the connotation was perfectly clear.

Ophelia held Will’s life in her hands, and here was a tangible reminder of that.As it was, Ophelia did not need any reminder. She had no intention of breaking her promise. “Thank you… it is beautiful.”

“Quite like you,” murmured Lord Beckett, glancing at the ground. This was the first glimpse of true vulnerability that Ophelia had seen from him yet.

Carefully, she slipped her glove back on before curtsying and declaring, “Farewell, Lord Beckett. I shall see you in a few months’ time, with luck.”

Without any further delay, she exited the room and left to intercept Will before he could leave without her.

* * *

Ophelia barely managed to catch Will as he ran out of the jail, undoubtedly coming out of his last talk with Elizabeth. 

“Will!” she cried, launching a hand on his arm.

He gasped and whirled around before sighing in relief. “Ophelia, you startled me. Are you all right? What did Lord Beckett want?”

“He wanted to tell me of your agreement,” she said, though she was loath to address her **_own_** agreement. If she told Will about her engagement, he would demand that she cancel the deal right away. She would need to tell him later on, when there was absolutely nothing he could do about her decision. “And he wanted for me to go with you on your journey, in case Jack Sparrow gets any ideas.”

Will smiled uneasily. “Do you doubt me?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then stay here.”

“I cannot. These were Lord Beckett’s orders. You might get into trouble if I remain—Elizabeth might get in trouble. Besides, I **_want_** to go. I would like to make sure you succeed, that you return here in one piece. Do not ask me to remain in the forge for another season while you sail around the world, facing rogue pirates and evil spirits on the high seas. I could not bear it.”

Will bit his lip, exchanging glances from his friend to the harbor and the gathered ships. Seeing that he was still unsure, Ophelia gently put a hand on his shoulder and guided his eyes back to her own.

“Together this time. Remember? You promised me.”

Will sighed and stared into her chocolate brown eyes. Seeing the pleading within them, he murmured, “Ophelia… it will be dangerous. The ocean can be tolerable at best, and I fear Captain Jack shall be less so. You are a beautiful woman… on that ship, I can only protect you so much.”

Ophelia restrained laughter and crossed her arms. She was not as beautiful as Will might declare—certainly not as lovely as Elizabeth, anyway. Her eyes were an entrancing dark russet, that was true, and her hair was dark and wavy, but her lips were thin, and her nose small.

And so she retorted, “Captain Jack will not be a worry of mine. You have taught me how to wield a sword. And I **_know_** this quest shall be dangerous. Why do you think I am coming? I am coming to protect **_you_**.”

“But—you have never been sailing before, what if you get seasick?”

“If seasickness is the best argument you have in your defense, Will Turner, you are going to lose this battle,” insisted Ophelia, trying not to laugh. “I am coming with you. And I shall be fine.”

He stared at her for another moment before raising his hands in surrender. “Very well, it seems you have made up your mind. Come with me if you like, but do not say I did not warn you about the dangers of the ocean and the pirates.”

She giggled at his exasperation and retorted, “If anything, I look forward to it.”

Will looked at her with suppressed amusement before putting a hand gently on her shoulder and announcing, “Then we have no time to waste. Hopefully we can locate Jack quickly—he is, after all, a famous pirate.”


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

When Will and Ophelia arrived at the port, they began to ask around for any rumor of Captain Jack Sparrow. While everyone seemed to know who he was, most of the sailors didn’t know **_where_** he was.

One elderly man sharpening a knife told them, “Captain Jack Sparrow? Owes me four doubloons! Heard he was dead.”

That was the closest they got to hearing about Jack—while Ophelia was disheartened at the news, Will reassured her. “You don’t know Jack, Ophelia, but I do. And he is certainly not dead.”

He seemed confident enough for the both of them as they proceeded to ask the remaining men. Luckily, another one seemed to have heard a more helpful rumor. “Singapore, that’s what I heard! Drunk, with a smile on his face. Sure as the tide, Jack Sparrow turned up in Singapore.”

Knowing that this was the best they would get, Will and Ophelia managed to arrange passage on a man’s ship that was headed for Singapore. They left that day; thus began Ophelia’s first venture on the ocean.

Will’s fears were all to rot—Ophelia **_loved_** the ocean. She enjoyed every rock and creak of the ship, the wind when it blew and tossed her dark hair everywhere, the dialect of the sailors and the tight-knit friendship they all seemed to share. She was so optimistic, the crew began to adore her—they provided her with good food, good company, and plenty of rum.

She would constantly practice swordplay with Will upon the deck of the ship, and he would laugh whenever the wind would toss her hair in her face, hindering her performance. The crew members who could also wield a sword challenged her playfully as well, though she beat them all save the Captain, who had been training all his life.

Much too soon, the ship arrived in Singapore. While it had been two weeks, they had been memorable. As it was, Will and Ophelia said their farewells and headed to a tavern, as Will believed it was the most likely place to locate Jack.

They came across two bar maidens there; when they heard Will and Ophelia were looking for Jack, the first one exclaimed with a sickly sweet smile, “Jack Sparrow!”

“Haven’t seen him in a month,” interjected the second.

The first walked forward and leered, “When you find him, will you give him a message?”

And she brutally slapped Will across the face, which prompted Ophelia to snarl and point her sword at the wench. “Go back to your customers,” she spat, a fire in her dark eyes. “They have more need of you than we do. Go before I decide to trim your hair!”

The women glared at her disdainfully, but left as she requested.

As soon as they were gone, Ophelia sheathed her sword and gazed at Will’s face. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Do not worry, I’ve had worse.”

But there was a red mark on his cheek, and Ophelia was halfway tempted to sprint after the woman to tear her throat out.

Seeing the look on her face, Will guided her outside before she could do anything rash. “Let’s try and get information somewhere else. Perhaps the port.”

Ophelia had no better idea of what to do, so she nodded and followed him.

Down at the port, more men seemed to have an idea of where Jack was. Apparently he **_had_** been in Singapore about a month or two ago, but left abruptly without any trace. No one had heard news of his death or capture by the East India Company, but they hadn’t heard anything good of him, either.

At last, they came across a dark-skinned man who was crafting something out of hay. He heard they were looking for Jack and said, “Can’t say about Jack Sparrow, but there’s an island just south of the straits where I trade spices for delicious long pork.” He trailed off for a moment as if daydreaming about the meat, and then resumed. “Cannot say about Jack, but you’ll find a ship there. A ship with black sails.”

“That’s it,” exclaimed Will. “That’s the _Black Pearl._ Can you take us there?”

The man nodded. “My ship leaves tomorrow morning to head past the island. Be here at daybreak, and we shall drop you off there.”

Will nodded eagerly and declared, “We’ll be here.”

The conversation over, he and Ophelia walked off to find someplace to sleep for the night. They came across an inn close to the port and paid for one night’s stay—Ophelia received a few looks as she passed by, as unfortunately she hadn’t been able to change since they left Port Royal.

Once upstairs, Will shut the door and groaned.

Believing to know what he was thinking, Ophelia placed a hand on his shoulder. “He can’t be too far away now.”

But Will just shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about.”

“Then what is it?”

“The men downstairs—I did not like how they looked at you. This place is less than respectable.”

Ophelia, however, merely laughed. “I am not a piece of china, Will. I can fight. Or have you forgotten again?” This was said with an amused expression.

Will shot her a look, but did not answer—which, ironically, was all the answer that Ophelia needed. With an affectionate laugh, she put a hand on his shoulder and then turned toward the bed for a good night’s sleep.

* * *

The following morning, they were aboard the trader’s ship. Ophelia was delighted to have returned to the ocean—the feeling of sailing was irreplaceable, and although the sailors on the ship spoke only limited English, they were quite friendly. The only real drawbacks to the ship were that there were no extra clothes, so Ophelia was still stuck wearing her handmade dress, and the sleeping arrangements, seeing as she had never been accustomed to a cot before.

Her days were spent gazing over the ocean, often helping maintain cleanliness of the deck and doing basic work for the running of the ship. She began to learn the dialect of the sailors from Will—he taught her what “port” and “starboard” meant, as well as the areas of the ship. And of course, he would practice swordplay with her.

The journey to the island was not very long. It was only four days until Will saw the _Black Pearl_ out of a telescope. He handed it to Ophelia for her to see; she was not overwhelmed. It was beached, and desolate-looking.

“What could Jack Sparrow want from this island?” she wondered aloud.

Will had no answer.

The man who arranged passage came up to them then and announced, “My brother will take you ashore. Climb into the longboat, and he shall bring you as far as he can.”

With swift thanks, Will and Ophelia did as they were told. Before five more minutes had passed, they were rowing toward the beach. About fifty feet away from the shore, however, the man stopped rowing.

Will looked at him quizzically. “What’s the matter? The beach is right there.”

He began speaking in French, effectively confusing Will—Ophelia, however, understand bits and pieces of the dialect.

"He… says that it is dangerous,” she translated. “The island, I mean. And something about high waves…”

"Ah,” sighed Will. “He cannot bring us any closer, or else the longboat will tip over and he shall probably lose the oars. I guess there’s nothing else for it. We’ll have to swim.”

Ophelia refrained from sighing—she had never been fortunate enough to receive a change of clothes, so her dress was probably going to end up soaked and tattered. So much for her hopes of not damaging it.

Then again, she would have plenty of other dresses once she returned, seeing as she was engaged to the Lord Beckett now…

With this somewhat depressing thought, Ophelia thanked the man and leapt into the ocean after Will, who was already halfway to shore.

Despite her joy of the ocean while sailing, she did not much like swimming. It was very hard to keep her head above the salt water while the weight of her dress dragged her down—more than once, some water splashed into her mouth and eyes, making Ophelia have to splutter and rub her eyes.

At last, however, she made it. Will held out a hand to help her up, and Ophelia gazed back at the trader ship. It was already beyond any sort of reach—the longboat they’d arrived in was no longer visible.

Knowing that there would be no way to get off the island except via the _Black Pearl,_ Ophelia joined Will as he called out, “Jack! Jack Sparrow!”

There was silence in reply.

Will, not to be deterred, shouted, “Marty! Cotton!” But still there was silence, and his voice lowered to a somewhat defeated, “Anybody?”

He was still for a moment, as if daring, for the first time, to believe that Jack was dead. Seeing that he was becoming disheartened, Ophelia tripped over her sopping dress to put a hand on his arm. “Do not worry, Will. They may just be on the island somewhere instead of on the ship.”

Will perked up again and gave her a grateful smile. “You must be right,” he sighed, placing his hand on hers for a split second before moving off toward the trees. “Come on… they should be close by.”

Ophelia was not so sure, but she followed him anyway.

They entered the foliage—Will pointed at the ground. “Look,” he murmured. “Footprints. They’ve been here…”

Just then, there was the fluttering of wings, and a colorful parrot landed on a twig close to the two. Will seemed glad to see the bird as he proclaimed, “Ah, a familiar face!”

The parrot squawked. “Don’t eat me!”

Will, bemused, stared back at the parrot. “I’m not going to eat you.”

“Don’t eat me!”

Ophelia stared at the creature for a moment as it fluttered off through the trees again. She blinked once and figured it must be a very intelligent bird—she remembered what the man had said about the island being dangerous.

“Will—Will, be very careful. I do not like this place… The man said it was dangerous for a reason… What are you doing?” This last was because Ophelia had just turned to see Will peering at a pouch that was hanging from a branch.

He held it out for her to see. There was a small wire attached to it. “It’s Gibbs’s,” he said simply, as if this was supposed to make perfect sense.

With a sigh, Ophelia asked, “And who is Gibbs?”

“Jack’s first mate,” answered Will, absent-mindedly tracing the cord. It was entangled in a few more branches and leaves until suddenly, it cut off, leading nowhere.

But Ophelia noticed something he didn’t. The tree Will stood in front of was… **_breathing._**

“Will, get back!” she screeched.

Before Will could heed her warning, a native of the island screamed horrifically and leapt out at him from his camouflage. Startled, Will lunged back into a snare that launched him into the air. Seeing him dangling there, Ophelia cried out and moved forward to cut the rope—but she was stopped by other natives that surged forward and surrounded her. They disarmed her and wrenched her hands behind her back, tying her wrists together with a rope.

Ophelia cried out angrily. “Release me!”

Will’s eyes widened. “No! Ophelia!” he cried, swinging his sword in a futile attempt to hold off the natives. “Come on!” he challenged, despite the fact that he was upside down. “Who wants it? I can do this all day!”

The natives looked among each other before one blew a dart into Will’s neck. He immediately went limp, unconscious.

Ophelia screamed. “Will!”

The natives looked at her and started murmuring to each other. They then cut Will down and started tying his legs and hands to a pole, and prodded Ophelia’s back with one of the spears they held. It was obvious they wanted her to walk.

The journey was uphill—a fatiguing trek that was only made all the worse due to Ophelia’s sopping dress. The natives shot her side-long glances the entire time, as if unsure what exactly to make of her. Ophelia, however, did not care. She only had eyes for Will, concerned for his safety. He hadn’t woken up yet, and she was starting to worry.

It took the better part of an hour, but at last they reached the encampment that the natives lived at. There were perhaps a hundred gathered there, stomping on the ground and raising their spears to the sky. Their dark skin was painted bright colors, and their eyes gleamed maliciously. The natives were yodeling and shrieking and dancing—Ophelia had no idea how she’d be able to free Will and escape.

At the head of the encampment sat a man upon what looked like a throne. The natives planted her in front of the man, who, at closer inspection, didn’t quite look like he belonged. Besides the absurd face paint, his manner of dress and hairstyle labeled him as a pirate.

“Jack?” asked a groggy voice.

Ophelia gasped and whirled around—Will was awake. She was relieved to see his eyes open, but at the same time, was worried about what he would do in his current situation.

“Jack Sparrow!” gasped Will, a wide smile on his face. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he was hanging upside-down by a pole. “I can honestly say I’m glad to see you!”

Ophelia turned back to the man sitting on the throne. **_This_** was Captain Jack Sparrow? Why was he on this island and not on the sea?

Jack Sparrow rose from his chair and walked toward Will blankly before merely poking his shoulder.

Will looked confused. “Jack, it’s me! Will Turner!”

The pirate showed no sign of recognition. Instead, he began talking in the natives’ language. He then looked at Ophelia, and his eyebrows raised, his gaze slowly moving along her face, then to her body and soaking dress, then back up to her face. Ophelia was not sure what to think about it.

“Tell them to let me down!” exclaimed Will.

Jack Sparrow spoke in more of the foreign dialect.

Seeing that he wasn’t getting anywhere, Will decided to get directly to the point. “Jack, the compass. That’s all I need. Elizabeth is in danger—we were arrested for trying to help **_you!_** She faces the gallows!”

Ophelia noticed that the pirate’s eyes widened… Based on the look that flashed through his gaze, she realized that he wasn’t being cruel or apathetic. He was trying to be discreet.

Her suspicions seemed all but confirmed as he began talking to the native in charge of Will’s capture, using extravagant hand gestures to help convey his points. Based on his lax posture and easy smile, Ophelia guessed that Captain Sparrow was a man who was used to having control of situations. He was eccentric, but also had an air of charisma and wit about him. She recalled all the stories she’d heard about this man and could tell, merely from observing him, that many of them were true.

“Savvy?”

The native looked at him, then raised his spear and shouted something. The rest of the tribe repeated it, and they began to spirit Will away. As Will was seized, Jack Sparrow whispered something to Will: “Save me.”

Ophelia gasped as Will was transported out of sight. “No! Captain Jack—what will they do to him? Stop them, please!”

Jack Sparrow looked at her and whispered, “Not the time, lassie. We’ve got to get out of here.”

"Yes, I’ve established that much for myself,” grumbled Ophelia, gazing at the Captain. He was smiling, but there was a sense of urgency behind his expression. As she looked despondently to where Will was taken, she blinked and exclaimed, “Wait—why wasn’t **_I_** brought away?”

As if on cue, a native tromped up to Jack and pointed his spear at Ophelia; another animated discussion began. Suddenly, Jack leaped back to Ophelia and snaked an arm around her waist, yanking her close to him.

Ophelia tensed, but figured that to resist would be a poor idea. So she clenched her teeth and looked between the pirate and the native, trying to deduce what they were saying.

Suddenly, Jack danced behind her, seizing her around the waist with one arm and placing his other hand at her throat. Ophelia swallowed, but the native seemed appeased; he retreated to a large fire pit that his kin were dancing around.

Once he was gone, Jack Sparrow sighed and released her. “Sorry about that, love,” he said with a simper on his face. “Finally managed to convince those savages that you and I can speak a divine language. They shouldn’t be bothering us about not using their gaggle.”

Ophelia cleared her throat and took a casual but uncomfortable step away from the pirate. Her action, however, only seemed to amuse him. She tried to resist flushing in embarrassment as he watched her think of a response. At last, she settled with, “I see. It must’ve taken ages to learn how to communicate with them so well. How long **_did_** it take?”

“It only took me twelve minutes, give or take a minute or two,” he replied condescendingly.

Ophelia sighed, exasperated by his flippant behavior, but at the same time impressed by his intelligence. Even so, she only asked, “What is going on, Jack? Why are you here? Where is your crew?”

“I am here because we needed to find land for personal reasons,” relayed Jack, lifting his chin in a clear manner that he would say no more on the subject. “My crew is being held captive somewhere. William Turner will be taken there to them. Don’t worry, he won’t be eaten yet.”

“Eaten?” squeaked Ophelia. “ ** _Yet?!_** ”

Jack, however, ignored her. “Now, who are **_you?_** You’re not Elizabeth. She’s much more… pirate-y… than you are.”

She raised an eyebrow, not insulted by not being considered pirate material. “I am Ophelia Bennett, and I came with Will to make sure he found you and retrieved what he needs to save Elizabeth’s life.”

“Well, isn’t that nice. But until we get off this island, you are not Olivia what’s-her-face. You will need to pretend to be my wife.”

“Your… wife?”

“They would’ve eaten you otherwise, but now they think you’re a goddess. So you’re welcome,” he added with another extravagant arm flourish. “As it is, they’re going to eat **_me_** soon, so if you have an escape plan, now is the time to relay it.”

Ophelia gaped at him, nearly at a loss for words. “But you’re Captain Jack Sparrow!”

“So you’ve heard of me! Excellent!”

“If **_you_** have no plan, how can you expect **_me_** to have one?”

“Good point… I guess we’ll figure it out, won’t we, lassie?”

Before Ophelia could retort, she was interrupted by pounding drums and stomping feet. Hearing this, Jack Sparrow blanched and muttered, “Although we should probably do it quickly. The moment these barbarians finish their voodoo, I’m going to be their entrée, savvy?”


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Jack Sparrow’s hope was miserably misplaced. Ophelia had absolutely no other idea about what to do except fight, as the cannibals had not taken her sword. But there were a hundred of them against only her and Jack.

Obviously, that wouldn’t work.

The two tried to brainstorm a way to get out, and they could only come up with one thing that they agreed on: run. They would need to run, there would be no aggression against a group this size.

As soon as this was established, Jack winked at Ophelia and declared, “Get ready, lassie.” Then he sauntered up to the natives who were stacking logs on the fire pit and shouted, “No, no! More wood! Big fire! I am Chief! Want big fire!”

Despite not using their dialect, the natives seemed to understand Jack’s command. They rushed to the side to grab more logs—before they could turn back to him, Jack seized Ophelia’s arm and the two of them started sprinting as far and fast as they could **_away_** from the encampment.

Once the drums were out of earshot, Ophelia laughed. “Who knew that plan would be so simple?” she remarked, almost to herself.

Jack smirked and replied, “Indubitably, Olivia, it was not as hard as we predicted.”

Ophelia sighed. “My name is **_Ophelia,_** Captain Jack, not Olivia.”

“My apologies, lassie!” exclaimed Jack, looking back at her for a split second. But that split second almost made him topple over a cliff—it was only because Ophelia cried out, “Jack!” and yanked him backward that he avoided toppling into the chasm.

As it was, Jack landed on Ophelia, his hands landing on her waist. She glared at him—he was unbothered by the hostility, choosing instead to grin complacently and declare, “Perhaps we can try this again in my ship.”

“No, thank you,” she retorted, abruptly pushing him off of her. She rose to her feet, stared into the abyss, and sighed. “We’ll need to find another way around.”

“Nonsense!” At this exclamation, Jack held up a long bamboo shoot that could be used as a pole. “Here’s what we need! Although… we might need some rope… Follow me, love!” With an extravagant wave of his hand, he held open the flap of a teepee and gestured her inside.

The first thing Ophelia noticed were the weapons hanging from the ceiling. Blood stained them. Knowing that the natives were cannibals caused her face to blanch. As she stared at the horrid cutlery, Jack was rummaging through the teepee until, with a happy exclamation, he located a length of rope. Something else caught his eye, and he picked it up.

It was a paprika shaker with the words _East India Trading Company_ stamped on its base.

Ophelia restrained a sigh. She could not forget that she was now promised to the leader of said company…

She of course did not say this aloud as she and Jack walked back outside the teepee—and instantly stopped. “Bugger,” muttered Jack.

The natives were there, waiting for them. She and Jack had lingered too long. Terrified, Ophelia glanced at Jack to see if he had a plan. The pirate, however, just dropped the rope slung across his shoulder, opened the paprika can, and sprinkled the spice on his underarms.

“A little seasoning, eh?” he inquired, sniffing the air as if he suddenly had a brand new aroma.

The cannibals were unimpressed. They used their spears to direct both of them back to the encampment, where they immediately tied Jack to a pole and started to lift him over the unlit kindling of the fire pit. They allowed Ophelia to remain free—for now—but at least six sharp spears were pointed her direction, and twice as many eyes.

“Good work,” sighed Jack as he was lifted on a spit. He glanced at Ophelia. “I don’t suppose you have any miracles in store for me, love?”

“I’ll… work on it,” she mumbled.

“Oh great. I feel loads better.”

Ophelia almost cracked a smile at that, but she did not, if only because of the dire situation they were in. She could only watch as Jack struggled against his bonds. The natives began pounding the drums again, screeching and dancing around like they had been when she first arrived.

Just then, one of the indigenous men ran in front of Jack and raised a lit torch, shouting something.

The people repeated it, and he began to lower the torch—

But a boy ran into the crowd and began screaming and pointing further into the encampment. Ophelia had no idea what he was saying, but obviously Jack did, because when the tribe looked to him for his command—despite being tied up and prepped for roasting—he exclaimed, “Well, go on, go get them!”

Hearing this, the natives all shrieked with glee and rushed off to where the boy had been pointing. The man with the torch dropped it, and it lit the fire underneath Jack.

Since they were now alone, Ophelia wasted no time in rushing forward to cut Jack loose. Once she succeeded, Jack landed atop the fire, smothering and extinguishing it.

“Thanks, lassie,” he grunted.

“Don’t thank me yet. We have a ways to go,” she replied. “Hurry, let’s go! I’m fairly certain those savages are heading for Will and your crew, which means they shall be arriving at the _Pearl_ soon. Let’s go before we miss them!”

“Bossy!” exclaimed Jack, but he rose and followed her all the same.

Within the next five minutes, they were back at the chasm they had been recaptured at. She stared down into the abyss and swallowed uneasily. “Do you know where we might get more rope?” she questioned.

Jack looked disheartened for a spare second—but then a light flickered on in his eyes. “Do you trust me, lassie?”

“Not really, no.”

He clucked his tongue. “How unfortunate. Well, if you won’t trust me, perhaps you will forgive me.”

And with that, the pirate picked Ophelia up in his arms and, with all his strength, launched her over the chasm.

Ophelia screamed as she flew through the air—but she landed safely on the other side. She was utterly shocked by how well that worked; after registering that she was safe, she whirled around to monitor Jack’s progress.

She turned around just in time to witness him using one of the bamboo shoots like a launching pole to cross the chasm. She stared in horrified fascination as he ran and struck the pole in the ground… Captain Jack then flew through the air and landed on his feet next to her.

He looked mightily pleased with himself. “How about **_that,_** eh?” he chuckled, holding out a hand to help Ophelia up.

Gratefully, she took it, still astonished by what she had seen. Will had failed to tell her how skilled this pirate was; she had to admit that she was impressed, although she **_was_** still irritated by the fact that said pirate had just thrown her over a cliff.

As it was, there was no time to argue about his action. They still needed to reach the _Pearl_ before the rest of the crew cast off without them.

Through the jungle they ran, raging past trees and through bushes. The closer they got to the ship, however, the closer the yells and ululates of the natives became—just as they reached the beach, the cannibals emerged from the trees, about thirty feet behind Ophelia and Jack.

“Jack!” she exclaimed breathlessly, picking up her skirts and running as fast as she possibly could.

“I see them!” he shouted back. “Almost there, love!”

Luckily, he was right. When they turned the corner of the island, Ophelia could see the _Pearl_ still sitting on the beach… although as they ran, and as she watched, the ship steadily began making its way toward the water.

Captain Jack seemed to notice this too. With as much volume as he could muster, he screamed, “OI!” in a desperate effort to stop the ship.

“ ** _Will!_** ” screamed Ophelia, hoping he was nearby.

“ ** _Ophelia!_** ” she heard in response—she exhaled, a great and relieved smile on her face. Will had made it. He was okay. She didn’t realize how worried she had been about him until she felt tears spiking her eyes.

“AAARRGGGHH!” bellowed Jack, putting on a final burst of speed. Ophelia struggled to match his pace, as her dress was slowing her and she was exhausted… but at the same time, the unrelenting fear made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

“Go on, lassie, go!” commanded Jack. Without waiting for another word, Ophelia barreled into the shallow water and lunged towards the rope on the side of the ship. She steadily climbed it and looked up to see Will extending a hand towards her.

“Come on, Ophelia!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with worry.

She reached up and grasped his hand—he then hoisted her onto the deck of the ship as if she were a sack of flour.

He put her down and frantically gazed over her. “Are you alright?” he demanded. “They didn’t hurt you?”

“Relax, Will,” she soothed. She grabbed his hands and forced them back down to his sides. “I am fine. Captain Sparrow helped me escape.” Noting his surprise, she giggled and exclaimed, “You failed to tell me of his cunning, Will, as well as his eccentricity.”

That made him laugh. “Aye, perhaps I did. But now you know.”

Before Ophelia could reply, she heard the Captain’s voice shouting from the side of the ship—she moved to see what he was doing. He was clinging to the rope, as the ship was now too far into the water for the cannibals to reach them. “Alas, my children!” he shouted to the natives, waving a hand in farewell. “This is the day you shall always remember as the day you almost—”

He was cut off by a giant wave that splashed into his back. Seeing the exasperation on Jack’s face, Ophelia bit her fist to restrain a fit of laughter.

“Captain Jack Sparrow,” grumbled Jack, and then he started climbing the rope again.

Once he was onboard, a man whom Ophelia could only presume was Jack’s first mate asked him about heading to open sea—but she did not listen to that conversation, because Will was gazing at her again as if he was still not sure she was in one piece.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to make sure you are truthfully okay,” he retorted.

“I would not lie to you about my well-being, Will,” she sighed, admittedly exasperated. Through twelve years of friendship, she had never lied to him—and the only thing she had ever kept hidden from him was her love.

Will chuckled, a sheepish grin on his face. “I’m sorry. I worried because you were not brought with me. I was not sure you and Jack would escape.”

She smiled somewhat and placed a hand on his arm. “We’re alright. There is no longer any need to worry—we’re together.”

This last seemed to comfort him greatly… just then, however, his eyes narrowed. Ophelia followed his line of sight and realized he was looking at Captain Jack—without another word, Will began to stalk towards him. Once he approached the captain, he said, “Jack. Elizabeth is in danger.”

“Have you considered keeping a more watchful eye on her, maybe just lock her up somewhere?” questioned Jack.

Ophelia had to restrain a snort. Jack heard it and shot her a gratified smirk.

Will, however, did **_not_** hear it, and exclaimed angrily, “She **_is_** locked up, bound to hang for helping you!”

"There comes a times when one must take responsibility for one’s mistakes,” retorted Jack.

Irritated by the captain’s nonchalant attitude, Will whirled around and stole a sword from a crew member’s sheath. He then directed it towards Jack’s neck—the suddenness of the gesture made Ophelia inhale sharply and step backwards. “I need that compass of yours, Jack,” persisted Will. “I must trade it for her freedom.”

The Captain sighed and moved Will’s blade to his other shoulder. Yet he still called, “Mister Gibbs?”

“Aye, Captain?” asked the man Ophelia had seen earlier, whose name was apparently Gibbs.

“We have a need to travel upriver,” declared Jack.

"By need, do you mean a trifling need? Fleeting? As in, say, a passing fancy?”

"No, a… resolute and unyielding need,” answered Jack, much to his first mate’s exasperation.

Will looked rather frustrated as well as he retorted, “What we need to do is make sail for Port Royal with all haste.”

“William, I shall trade you the compass if you will help me to find this.” And Jack pulled out a worn out piece of cloth and flopped it upon a railing of the ship. Both Ophelia and Will leaned forward to get a look—drawn on the cloth was a picture of a key.

“You want me to find this?” questioned Will, raising an eyebrow.

"No. **_You_** want you to find this. Because the finding of this finds you incapacitorially finding and/or locating in your discovering a way to save your dolly belle, ol-what’s-her-face. Savvy?”

Jack looked mightily pleased with himself, and he began to stalk off—but then he stopped and pointed at Ophelia as if she had only just arrived. “Wait a minute. Why exactly are you saving said bonny lass if you’ve already got one here?”

Ophelia blinked, wondering what Will would say.

“You mean Ophelia?” clarified Will, looking incredulous. He glanced at her face and smiled before answering, “She’s my best friend, Jack, but different from Elizabeth, just as Elizabeth is different from Ophelia. They are both incredibly important to me.”

Ophelia swallowed hard. She had never dared to hope she meant so much to Will before. Although it was not a romantic love he felt for her, his care for her was apparently strong nonetheless.

“Wait a minute,” exclaimed Gibbs, suddenly reappearing into the conversation and distracting Ophelia from her thoughts. “When did a woman appear onboard? That’s bad luck, Jack, you **_know_** that is!”

“Oh, enough of that,” scoffed Jack. “She could be a valuable addition to the ship. As long as we keep to the shallows, no bad luck will hit us. At any rate, William… I suppose I must accept your point, even if I do not understand it. Now, more importantly—are you prepared to help me retrieve this key?”

“Will it save Elizabeth?”

Jack’s eyebrows raised, and he sauntered past Ophelia to murmur in Will’s ear, “How much do you know about… Davy Jones?”

Will looked unimpressed. “Not much.”

"Yeah. It’s going to save Elizabeth,” answered Jack. And then he swaggered down onto the deck, shouting some orders to some of the crew members before returning to the helm of the ship.

Gibbs soon followed him, looking thoroughly disgruntled. Then it was only Will and Ophelia.

Alone again, Ophelia sighed and questioned, “So this is the pirate life?”

Will chuckled. “A small taste of it. Believe me, there’s usually more danger.”

“I daresay there will be plenty of opportunities to experience it,” she replied, trying not to smirk. But there was a tightness in her chest based on something Will had said… and she could not keep it back. “Will, did you really mean—did you really mean what you said?”

“What did I say?” he queried, gazing at her with a puzzled smile.

"That I was incredibly important to you.”

His confusion morphed into something that resembled amusement; Will almost laughed as he replied, “Of course I meant it. You are my best friend, Ophie, and that is irreplaceable. Now come on. I’ll show you around the _Pearl._ ”

He ruffled her dark hair like he did on only a few occasions and sauntered off—with a grin, Ophelia followed him. If she was going to sail with pirates on the _Pearl_ , she might as well know her way around.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

The next couple of days were spent with the _Pearl_ heading closer and closer to a set of mountain ranges that shadowed a river. Apparently, that river was Captain Jack’s destination—or, more accurately, something or someone that lived along the riverbank was.

During this time, Ophelia spent her days on deck, often helping to maintain the ship’s course. Will spent a lot of time teaching her the basics, and Captain Jack himself thought he would be the one to teach her how to steer a ship.

“It’s actually quite simple,” he declared with a sniff. “Although only those with authority are allowed to do so.”

That made her laugh. “Don’t worry, Jack, I have no intention of ever steering the ship. You are the Captain, after all.”

There was a smug look on his face after that.

Other than being taught the ways of the ship, Jack and Will managed to find some trousers and a shirt for her to wear instead of her dress. By that time, the beautiful pale-pink dress Ophelia had sewn and created was destroyed; it had absorbed the seawater and was torn from her run through the jungle. They also managed to locate some boots and an extra sword, so she would look “just like one o’ me crew,” as Jack put it.

Despite her relief for being in fresh clothes, however, Ophelia didn’t know what to do to conceal her scar. It was, as always, a furious black reminiscent of a poisoned wound, and she did not want to look at it if she did not have to. The same could be said regarding the golden ring given to her by Lord Beckett… she detested remembering it was there, and remembering what awaited her when she returned to Port Royal.

Most of the crew did not notice her scar or her ring; if they did, they did not care. But Jack noticed and was apparently curious. He peered at it curiously before declaring, “How did you get that mark, love? Were you a pirate before after all? And what’s with the ring?”

Ophelia laughed and replied, “This is some sort of scar I received when I was very, very young. I do not remember how I got it, but I despise looking at it. The ring is… another story.”

“A pity about the scar,” clucked Jack. “But if that’s how you feel…”

He grabbed a clean rag and tied it around her hand—not too tight, but tight enough so it wouldn’t slip. With a satisfied grin, he declared, “There we are, just like mine.” He held up his own hand to prove that he wore a cloth around his left hand as well.

The girl smiled and murmured, “Thank you.” She was surprised by how much Jack managed to comfort her by telling her she wasn’t the only one with a scar.

But then, Jack asked what Ophelia hoped he would forget.

"You did not tell me about your ring.”

She contemplated lying for a moment… but then, Ophelia decided to tell him a small truth. “The ring? It is nothing; only a reminder.”

Jack nodded slowly, obviously aware that she was not telling him everything.

Only four more hours passed before the Captain announced that they would need to use the longboats to ascend the river. Hearing that they were near land, Ophelia ran to the side of the deck and glanced out—she gasped.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful. The mountain ranges stood closer than ever, their peaks tall and menacing yet fascinating at the same time. Tall emerald trees were close by. A crystalline river opening into the ocean was just a few hundred feet away; she knew that was where the crew of the _Pearl_ would be heading.

Before she could say anything, however, Jack approached her and asked, “Would you help me with something, love?”

Ophelia nodded. “Of course. What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to help me catch the monkey.”

For a moment, she was shocked. “The monkey?”

“Yes. That one, in case you haven’t seen it.” Jack said this while using a pistol to point out the monkey in the rigging—Ophelia squinted against the sunlight and saw a silhouette that looked remarkably like that accursed monkey…

“Ugh,” she groaned. Ophelia knew that monkey well—each morning, without fail, the little menace would steal her breakfast straight out of her hand. Another of the crew members—Ragetti—had a lot of trouble with the beast. His glass eye would be stolen quite often by the creature.

Needless to say, Ophelia would not feel guilty for capturing it. Still, she was curious enough to inquire, “Why that one?”

“Because it’s undead,” answered Jack, as if it were obvious. “We’ll be needing it as a bargaining chip where we’re going, and I know I will not be able to capture the little bugger on my own. So I need your help, savvy?”

Ophelia smirked and shook her head, but she replied, “Very well.”

“Excellent! I’ve already set up a trap for the little scamp, so all I need you to do is wait by the trap and close the lid on it while I drive it down here.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Jack blinked, but then grinned and stepped towards her. “I **_like_** you calling me ‘Captain,’” he murmured, raising an eyebrow and appraising her approvingly. “Perhaps I might hear it more often?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” remarked Ophelia, but she had a hard time keeping a straight face as he raised his eyebrow even higher.

“So wait by the cage over there.” He pointed it out to her. “And I’ll be down presently, chasing the bastard.”

Ophelia sighed, but did as was bid. She stood by the cage—which, she was amused to see, had a banana inside it—and simply watched as Jack began to climb the rigging. More than once, Jack got his foot stuck in the rope, making her laugh. In fact, the monkey seemed amused by it, too, because it screeched once or twice in an entertained manner.

“Stop that!” Jack scolded down at Ophelia. “You’re encouraging it!”

“Perhaps if you learned how to climb, I wouldn’t be laughing!”

“Would you like to switch places with me?”

“I daresay you’re already halfway there! It’d be more work for you to come down, Captain!”

There was some grumbling; amongst that, Ophelia heard, “ ** _Fine,_** then…” And he foraged on, much to Ophelia’s penchant.

Presently, she heard him mutter, “Here, you little bugger! Come here!”

The monkey just screeched and hopped down the rigging, nimbly navigating the ropes.

“OI!” shouted Jack. “Get back here!”

Ophelia watched with amusement and hilarity as Jack seized a loose rope and used it to swing back down to the ground—but the monkey also caught her attention. It was heading **_straight_** for the cage, with the banana sitting inside it. In fact, it actually dove inside and immediately began devouring the fruit. Ophelia made sure to quickly shut the door and lock it so the little creature couldn’t escape.

“Got it!” she cried triumphantly. She then turned around only to see that Jack was barreling straight towards her.

“Look out!” he exclaimed, but too late. He stumbled forward only to crash into Ophelia and land on the stairs of the main deck.

Will, who had been drawn towards the commotion, exclaimed, “Ophelia! Are you alright?”

But there was no need for him to worry; she and Jack were laughing too hard to respond, even though they were both sprawled upon the stairs.

“Now **_that_** is how you catch a monkey,” declared Jack, grinning complacently at Ophelia, who could only laugh and roll her eyes.

* * *

Hours passed. Soon, it was well into the night; the crew of the _Pearl_ had transferred into longboats a while back and were steadily rowing upriver. Much to Ophelia’s displeasure, however, they were still another hour’s travel away from their destination. Despite her efforts to inquire where they were headed, Ophelia still had no clue to their purpose off the sea.

At last, exasperated with her lack of answers, she leaned over the boat, tapped Jack on the shoulder, and asked him softly, “Why are you afraid of the ocean?”

The Captain jumped, startled. Seeing that it was only Ophelia, however, he merely snickered to himself and shook his head.

“Why won’t you tell me?” she murmured, cocking her head sideways.

“Because you would not understand.”

“Try me,” retorted Ophelia, raising an eyebrow.

Jack opened his mouth as if to respond—but then he shut it again and would not give her any answers, leaving her forced to ask the crew the same question.

Although many seemed as clueless about Jack’s purposes as well, Gibbs managed to answer, albeit ominously.

“Well, if you believe such things, there’s a beast that does the bidding of Davy Jones. A fearsome creature with giant tentacles that’ll suction your face clean off and drag an entire ship down to the crushing darkness… The Kraken.”

There was a shudder all along the boat; Ophelia glanced across their faces and noted the crew’s fear.

“They say the stench of its breath is like…” Gibbs could not finish the description. He shuddered instead, leaving it to the imagination. “Imagine, the last thing you know on God’s green earth is the roar of the Kraken and the reeking odor of a thousand rotting corpses… If you believe such things,” he added shakily.

It did little to comfort Ophelia, who thought the Kraken sounded nothing less than dreadful.

“And the key will spare him that?” queried Will, remembering the drawing of the key on the parchment that Jack had.

“Well, that’s the question that Jack wants answered. Bad enough even to go visit… **_her,_ ”** responded Gibbs.

Ophelia leaned forward, eager to know of their purpose upriver. Apparently, Will was also intrigued, because he repeated, “Her?”

Gibbs nodded gravely. “Aye. Her.”

And he would say nothing more, leaving both Will and Ophelia more curious than ever.

* * *

Once it was pitch-black, the crew of the _Pearl_ arrived at their destination. At Jack’s orders, the two longboats stopped in front of a wooden hut close to the end of the river. The only thing Ophelia could see other than the cabin was Jack’s excited smile as he clambered out of the boat and offered her a hand.

Ophelia took it, if only to humor him.

“Tell someone to mind the boat, would you, love?” he asked, smirking as he glanced at her over his shoulder.

She nodded and did as was asked. Turning to Gibbs, she said, “Captain says mind the boat.”

“Ooh, you called me **_Captain!_** ” exclaimed Jack, making Ophelia sigh and restrain a smirk.

“Mind the boat,” Gibbs passed on to Will—who passed it to Marty—who passed it to Ragetti and Pintel, and finally to Cotton, who plopped back into the boat with a malcontent expression on his face.

After that was decided, Ophelia turned back to Jack. “So who is this that we’re going to see? Is she dangerous?”

“Worry not, lassie! Tia Dalma and I go **_way_** back,” reassured Jack with a flamboyant wave of his arm. “Thick as thieves. Nigh inseparable, we are. Were… have been. Before…” He trailed off with a rather lost expression on his face.

Gibbs stepped forward then and clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll watch your back,” he declared.

Jack, however, merely muttered, “It’s me front I’m worried about,” and stepped through the door, gesturing Ophelia to follow him.

And so she did—inside the cabin was a ragtag collection of oddities… jars of strange objects hung from the ceiling, mixed with lanterns that lit the foyer. Other items lounged on tables. It was beyond cluttered—Ophelia thought it might be proper to clean out some of the junk. She had to watch where she stepped to avoid breaking something.

Just as she was wondering whether it was worth it to shove a block of mud out of the way, a woman’s deep voice distracted her: “Jack Sparrow!”

“Tia Dalma!” exchanged Jack, holding his arms out as if to embrace the woman. Ophelia glanced around him to get a good look at her.

The woman called Tia Dalma was dark skinned and had a few sparse tattoos trailing down her arms. Her eyes were darker than dark-chocolate, and her smile was warm as she looked at the Captain with true affection. Ophelia wondered what their relations were, exactly.

“I always knew the wind was going to blow you back to me one day,” crooned Tia Dalma, stepping forward towards the party. Ophelia noticed an accent in her voice; it seemed to soothe the crew, which only made her more suspicious.

That was when Tia Dalma’s gaze drifted from Jack to someone behind Ophelia—Will, who had been standing protectively behind her.

Seeing him, the woman gasped. “You… you have a touch of destiny about you, William Turner.” She moved toward Will and reached as if to touch his face.

“You know me?” asked Will, sounding incredulous. He dodged the hand that was directed towards his cheek as politely as he could.

“You want to know me…?” she asked, leaning towards his face. Will looked mildly uncomfortable.

Ophelia had just about had enough and was ready to do something for Will’s defense—but before she could get to it, Jack stepped between them and exclaimed, “There’ll be no knowing here! We’ve come for help and we’re not leaving without it.” After this declaration, he turned to Tia Dalma and said petulantly, “I thought **_I_** knew you.”

“Not so well as I had—” Tia Dalma began to say, but then she caught sight of Ophelia and froze.

“ ** _What?_** ” Tia Dalma gasped, staring at her. “But…”

Ophelia glanced over her shoulder to see Will and the rest of the crew utterly confused. She looked to Jack for reassurance as well, but even the Captain looked astonished.

Ophelia was just about to ask Tia Dalma what was wrong, but then the other woman shrieked and threw an empty jar at her. Ophelia cried out and ducked underneath the pottery—it sailed over her head and hit Gibbs in the stomach, making the first mate double over.

“ ** _Get out!_** ” shrieked Tia Dalma, rearming herself with a wooden block. She threw that too, but this one Ophelia caught. When Ophelia caught it, Tia Dalma seized her wrist.

“Ah! Hey!” exclaimed Ophelia, but her protestations were unheard. Tia Dalma grabbed the cloth that Jack had given her to hide her scar and untied it. As always, the ugly black scar covered the back of her hand, as dark as the night sky.

Tia Dalma howled angrily and flung Ophelia’s wrist to the side. “ ** _Get out of my house!_** ” she demanded, pushing Ophelia backwards.

“No!” retorted Ophelia, shoving Tia Dalma away from her, making the other woman stagger backward. “Not until Jack gets what he needs!”

“Uh—love,” began Jack, stepping forward. “Let me handle this.” He gently pushed Ophelia behind him and muttered to Will, “Watch over her, mate.”

Will nodded and kept a hand on Ophelia’s elbow. While normally this would’ve calmed her down, under the circumstances, she was much too confused and angry to care.

Tia Dalma, it appeared, was also still furious. “Jack Sparrow! How **_dare_** you lead her to me?!”

Jack looked nonplussed. “Tia, I have **_no_** idea what you’re on about. Why exactly is Olivia’s presence… er… a problem?”

“Ophelia!” corrected Ophelia exasperatedly.

“Not now, lassie,” grumbled Jack out of the corner of his mouth.

“Her very **_presence_** is an insult to me!” shrieked Tia Dalma, her dark eyes spitting fire. “I will not help you while that wretch is in your custody!”

Jack and Will both inhaled and glanced at Ophelia, who was looking at them in turn. There wasn’t much else for it except for her to leave.

Ophelia was about to open her mouth to speak, but Jack beat her to it. “No, no. I have a **_better_** idea! I have payment! A very good one! She needs to stay.”

The Captain then whistled. “Oi! Bring the monkey!”

Pintel grunted and pushed past her, carrying the caged monkey to the Captain. But Ophelia hardly cared about that accursed mammal any longer… she was staring at Jack in confusion. Surely he didn’t actually **_care_** about her curiosity—about her—at all.

With a sigh, Pintel plopped the cage upon the table. The monkey hissed and spat at him, but the ragged pirate just hissed in return.

Jack stumbled forward to negotiate. “You see this lovely little prize, Tia? All yours for the keeping! Very good at retrieving things for you. And look!”

The Captain raised his pistol to the monkey and, without warning, fired a loud bullet into it. The monkey just screeched in indignation.

“Undead! Top **_that,_** ” he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

For a moment, it was entirely silent in the cabin. Tia Dalma’s gaze flickered from the monkey to Ophelia, a war in her eyes. It was clear she dearly loved the monkey already—but it was just as clear that she despised Ophelia and her existence as well.

At last, however, Tia Dalma sighed, “Very **_well._** The payment is fair.”

“Excellent!” remarked Jack, clapping his hands. As Tia Dalma ushered them into the next room, he turned backwards to Ophelia and winked. “There you are, lassie. Now you don’t have to miss out on all the fun.”


	7. Chapter 7

It was Will who began the business discussion. Pulling out the parchment of the key drawing, he told Tia Dalma, “We’re looking for this, and what it goes to.”

Tia Dalma inspected the parchment; her cold gaze travelled purposefully over Ophelia to Jack. Sharply, she inquired, “The compass you bartered from me. It cannot lead you to this?”

“Maybe,” retorted Jack. “Why?”

This seemed to amuse the woman. With a coy smile that was almost a leer, she murmured, “I hear you… Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants! Or… **_do_** you know, but are loath to claim it as your own?” She paused for a moment before gazing out over the crew and continuing. “Your key go to a chest. And it is what lay inside the chest you seek, don’t it?”

“What **_is_** inside?” requested Gibbs.

“Gold?” suggested Pintel eagerly. “Jewels? Unclaimed property of an invaluable nature?!”

Ophelia inspected the drawing of the key. It looked dark, and, for some reason, unsettlingly sinister.

It was Ragetti who spoke what she feared. “Nothing… bad, I hope?”

Instead of answering, Tia Dalma apparently decided to change the subject. “You know of Davy Jones, yes? A man of the sea. A great sailor! Until he run afoul of that which vex all men.”

She glared at Ophelia, as if to scorn her lack of knowledge about sailors.

Will did not notice this glare, and therefore asked, “What vexes all men?”

Tia Dalma simply chuckled. “What indeed?”

Once again, the crew began to blurt out their thoughts. It was Gibbs who began it: “The sea?”

“Sums?” said Pintel.

“The dichotomy of good and evil,” suggested Ragetti—this answer earned him a few strange looks.

Captain Jack sighed heavily—Ophelia turned to look at him and noticed, with surprise, that he was looking at her as he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “A woman.”

She blinked and stared back at him, wondering if he meant anything by this.

Luckily, Tia Dalma did not seem to notice. She was too wrapped up in the story about Davy Jones—“A woman!” she exclaimed, nodding. “He fell in love…”

“No, no, no,” interrupted Gibbs, shaking his head vigorously. “I heard it was the **_sea_** he fell in love with.”

Tia Dalma’s gaze swiveled to him rapidly. “Same story, different versions, and all are true!” she retorted, pointing at him in a threatening manner. She then returned to the tale. “See, it was a woman as changing and harsh and untamable as the sea. Him never stopped loving her. But the pain it cause him was too much to live with… but not enough to cause him to die.” 

As she spoke, she glared at Ophelia as if the woman had done her a personal wrong. Ophelia couldn’t quite wrap her head around it.

Will seemed to notice Tia Dalma’s malice towards Ophelia as well, because he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and directed Tia Dalma’s attention onto him by asking, “What exactly did he put in the chest?”

This seemed to be the question that Tia Dalma was waiting for. With a gruesome yet satisfied smile, she answered, “Him heart.”

“Literally, or… figuratively?” questioned Ragetti.

“Well, he couldn’t **_literally_** put his heart in a chest!” spluttered Pintel indignantly. But then, his eyes widened, and he asked for reassurance, “Could he?”

Tia Dalma sneered and narrowed her eyes. “It was not worth feeling what small, fleeting joy life brings. And so… him **_carve_** out him heart, lock it away in a chest and hide the chest from the world. The key… he keep with him at all times.”

Will inhaled sharply. Ophelia grasped his hand to reassure him, even though she knew what this meant as well as he—in order to get Jack’s compass for Elizabeth, he’d have to steal the key from Davy Jones himself.

Coming to this conclusion, Will wheeled on Jack. “You knew this.”

“I did not!” defended Jack, raising his chin. “I didn’t know where the key was. But now we do. So all that’s left is to climb aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ , grab the key, and you go back to Port Royal to save your bonny lass, eh!”

He turned swiftly as if to hightail it out of Tia Dalma’s cottage, but before he could, she stood up and demanded, “Let me see your hand.”

Jack froze where he stood and whirled back around, handing her his right hand. Tia Dalma, however, just gave him a look and, knowing that there was no escaping her, Jack sighed and handed her his left hand—the one he had shown Ophelia; the one with the cloth tied around it.

Ophelia could not deny that she was curious about what was on his hand… did he have a scar exactly like her own? What could it mean?

Everyone watched with apprehension as Tia Dalma started to unravel the scarf tied around Jack’s hand… Ophelia and Will leaned forward, perhaps the most eager to see what would lie underneath.

When it was revealed, the rest of the crew gasped in horror.

“The black spot!” squeaked Gibbs, who promptly spat on the floor, started rubbing his hands on his shirt, and then turned around in a circle like a funny jig.

Seeing this, Pintel and Ragetti both whimpered as well, “Black spot!” and began performing the same rituals.

Jack sighed. “My eyesight’s as good as ever, just so you know.”

Ophelia couldn’t help but laugh—the pirate shot her a gratified smile.

At first, the girl wondered if this exchange would anger Tia Dalma at all. But when she glanced around, she realized that the woman was retreating to her back room, where lots of clattering and clanging proved that it was just as cluttered as the front room. She seemed to be muttering to herself as she searched for whatever-it-was in the back room. Ophelia used the woman’s absence as an opportunity to ask Jack, “What does the black spot mean to you?”

Jack sighed again, more reluctantly than before. “It means… that Davy Jones’s beastie is gunning for me, love. Me and my ship.”

“And everyone else on it?” asked Ophelia.

Jack was quiet for a moment before he raised a hand and gently brushed some of her dark-chocolate hair behind her shoulder. “Aye,” he answered softly. “And everyone else on it.”

Ophelia wished she could say something to comfort him—but nothing came to her mind.

“Ophelia,” said a voice; she glanced over her shoulder to see Will was somewhat glaring at her and Jack. His gaze softened, however, as he saw her curious expression. “You don’t need to worry yourself with horror stories.”

“Better to know than be caught off-guard,” she answered calmly, earning a smile from Jack and a malcontent grumble from Will.

Before Will could retort, Tia Dalma reemerged from her back room, holding a jar of sand.

“Davy Jones cannot make port. Cannot step on land but once every ten years,” she explained. “Land is where you are safe, Jack Sparrow, and so you will carry land with you.”

She then offered him the jar of sand. Jack took it with a questioning glance. “Dirt,” he stated plainly. “This is a jar of dirt.”

“Yes.”

“Is the… jar of dirt going to help?”

“If you don’t want it, give it back,” she retorted.

“No!” refused Jack, coveting the jar of dirt possessively.

Tia Dalma grinned. “Then it helps,” she mused, still looking pleased with herself.

With that over, Will again stepped forward. There was a shadow in his eyes as he next spoke. “It seems we have a need to find the _Flying Dutchman._ ”

Tia Dalma nodded softly and moved towards a table before grabbing a few bones and murmuring, “A touch of destiny…”

The bones landed, scattered, across a map of the sea on her table. She began to point out to Jack where exactly the _Flying Dutchman_ was located—but as she spoke, Ophelia pulled Will to the side.

“Will, I do not want to see you go aboard that ship,” mumbled Ophelia. “It’s dangerous and accursed if the rumors are true. You can’t go alone.”

Will chuckled and placed a hand on her arm. “I must, Ophelia. I did not ask you to come with me, as glad as I am that you are here. I will not see you captured and tortured, not if I can spare you that.”

Somewhat offended, Ophelia gaped. “I can defend myself as well as you! Or do you forget that I came here to protect you?”

“Perhaps you did, but I swore to myself to protect **_you._** This is not your fight, Ophelia. You are here for me, but I am here for Elizabeth. You have no such obligation. You will stay on the _Pearl._ ”

“Like hell. We’re doing this **_together._** Just like we promised,” retorted Ophelia, whisking away from him and returning to Jack’s side.

“Ophelia—” called Will, but she was already standing by the Captain.

Hearing this, Jack glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “You alright, love?”

“Fine,” she grumbled despite the clear evidence to the contrary. But then a little idea popped into her head… if anyone was good at planning escapes or undercover missions, it was Jack Sparrow. And so, lowering her voice, she added, “But I would like to talk to you once we’re back on the _Pearl._ ”

Jack was silent, but he nodded to let her know it would be allowed.

With that, Jack declared it was time to go—he thanked Tia Dalma heartily for her help, which was accepted gracefully… but Ophelia noted that she was still shot dirty looks, even though she had no idea why.

* * *

Once they were back on the ship, Jack commanded everyone to start making sail for the coordinates that Tia Dalma had given them. There was some reluctance on Ragetti’s and Pintel’s parts, but soon they got to their posts and continued on.

After they were certain that everyone was occupied—especially Will—Jack ushered Ophelia into the Captain’s cabin. It was a rather nice part of the ship; maps were strewn across the desk, and a bottle of rum balanced precariously on the table, next to a goblet full of the same liquid. Jack offered Ophelia a seat and handed her a spare glass, filling it with rum. He gestured for her to take a drink—Ophelia nodded, and the two took a couple swigs of the rum before Jack sighed and said, “Alright, lass. What do you want?”

“I want to go on the _Dutchman_ with Will when he goes,” she declared authoritatively.

Jack’s mouth dropped open halfway and he cleared his throat once or twice. “That… er, may not be the safest idea, Olivia.”

“ ** _Ophelia,_** ” grumbled Ophelia. “Honestly, Jack, how long is it going to take for you to get my name right?”

“To be fair, I’m terrible with names.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t remain quite as exasperated as before. “Anyway,” she resumed before Jack could stray farther more off topic, “I don’t care if it isn’t the safest idea. I’m here because I wanted to make sure that Will wouldn’t get himself killed, and if he goes on the _Dutchman,_ you can bet that **_something_** will happen to him. I will prevent it if I can.”

The Captain, however, merely shook his head. “You don’t know what they’re capable of over there.”

“And this is me saying I don’t give a damn!” shouted Ophelia, slamming her hand down onto the table. The goblet of rum atop the table rumbled at the force; Jack lunged forward to keep it from falling over. “I will go, one way or another!”

Jack sighed and sipped from his rum before plopping down in a chair and putting his feet up on the table. With a raised eyebrow, he queried, “Tell me, lass, **_why_** exactly you’re so intent on protecting Master William? He’s certainly capable of defending himself.”

“I know he is. He taught me.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Because he is my lifelong friend, and all I have in this life. I have nothing to lose, Jack,” confessed Ophelia. “Other than Will, I have no one. He has been my world for the vast majority of my life. I love no one else in this world like I love him—I will not lose him to this.”

Realizing that she had just admitted her feelings for her friend, Ophelia blinked and carefully watched Jack’s face. The pirate, at first, didn’t seem to comprehend what she had said… but after a moment, his eyes widened, and his gaze was redirected from his rum to her face.

“So… you’re in love with him, then?” he asked.

Ophelia stared back at him, a glaze in her eyes.

Her silence was Jack’s answer. He raised an eyebrow and tipped the rest of the rum into his mouth, muttering, “Well, it wasn’t entirely unexpected,” as he did.

“I must make sure he marries Elizabeth,” continued Ophelia desperately. “If he dies, I will never forgive myself. If he fails, I will never forgive myself. I will have made a promise for nothing.”

This caught Jack’s attention. Leaning forward, he inquired, “What promise?”

She sighed and removed the cloth from around her left hand—the shiny black of the scar, the black that looked remarkably like dark ink, shone out at them even brighter than the gold of the ring on her finger.

“Your scar?” he asked, gently taking her hand and turning it over.

Ophelia shook her head. “No,” she answered softly. “Do you remember what else caught your attention the first time you saw my hand?”

Jack’s eyes shot back up to her face. “Your ring. You never **_did_** tell me what it was for.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. Knowing this could be dangerous to tell him, Ophelia stared at the wall above Jack’s head and confessed, “I’m engaged.”

“ ** _Engaged?!_** ”

She nodded sadly. “To Lord Cutler Beckett, the owner and commander of the East India Trading Company.”

Jack lunged away from her, repulsed by the very sound of his name. “ ** _Bleck!_** ” he spat, glaring at the ring upon her hand. “Why would you do **_that?!_** ”

“Because I had to!” she cried, tears welling in her eyes. “I had no choice! He has promised **_you_** pardon from the law, promised **_Elizabeth_** pardon—the only one to whom he did not bestow a guarantee of freedom was Will! And he wished me to marry him in exchange for it. I would rather watch him live his life in happiness with no chance for my own, than watch him hang from the gallows when I could have saved him.”

The very thought of Will walking to his death haunted her—she closed her eyes in an attempt to banish the tears that were forming, but the image of Will’s hanging would not go away.

“Do not judge me, Jack Sparrow, for what I have to do. I have sacrificed my happiness for him—and I will give him my life too if I must.”

Her spiel over, Ophelia threw her hands to her face to hide how desperately upset she truly was. Before this moment, her engagement to Lord Beckett had been only a nagging thought in her mind. But now, truly facing the deal she had made, her unhappiness with the arrangement was glaringly obvious.

Despite her efforts to restrain her tears, she was frustrated to realize that she had begun to cry. Luckily, they were silent tears, so she was able to cover them easily… at least, she had been able to until she felt Jack pry her hands away from her face.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, sounding surprised. “Stop that.”

Needless to say, Ophelia couldn’t.

There was a brief silence until Jack sighed and said, “Alright, fine. I’ll do whatever I can to help you get on the _Dutchman._ I do have one question for you, though, lassie.”

“What is it?” she moaned.

“How far are you willing to go to protect him? What are you willing to do?”

Ophelia stared him in the eye and immediately replied, “Anything.”

Jack nodded severely. “I’m glad you’re that certain of yourself, love. Where you’re going, you’ll need to remember what you’re holding onto. In all honesty, I do not want to see you board that ship. It can transform you.”

“Why should you care?” she laughed throatily, trying to restrain more tears.

“Because you’re part of me crew,” answered Jack swiftly. Then, however, he moved ever so closer and added, “And I **_have_** grown rather fond of you, love.”

Ophelia blinked and cocked her head sideways, terribly self-conscious of this. “Have you?” was all she was able to ask.

“Just a titch,” he replied, leaning forward so there were only mere inches between them. His eyes were teasing as he murmured, “Don’t let it get to you.”

With this comment, Ophelia blinked and simply stared at the Captain. “Let it get to me?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “How so?”

He smirked. “Well, I **_am_** Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Ophelia laughed at that—a full laugh, one that made her smile stretch across her face once more. As she laughed, she felt Jack lean forward and kiss her, pulling her close, seating her on his lap as his lips parted hers. For a moment, Ophelia froze; but then she sighed and let herself feel free, if only for a moment.

Despite the ring on her finger, and despite whatever fear she held in her heart for Will’s safety, Ophelia could appreciate the fleeting moment in which she felt like she had a chance to find her own happiness.

After a moment, Ophelia pulled away and rested her forehead against his. She smiled at him then and asked, “What was that?”

“That was my price for helping you sneak onto the _Dutchman,_ ” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t quite want to lose you, lassie. That being said, if you succeed, you’ll be getting something more exciting than that as a welcome back.”

Ophelia couldn’t help but giggle. She felt herself hope that perhaps, with Jack’s help, everything might turn out alright. “Thank you,” she exhaled shakily. “Thank you, Jack.”

Jack put a hand to her face and grinned. “Anything for you, love.”


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

A few days passed, and Jack was good on his word about crafting a plot to sneak Ophelia onto the _Dutchman_ with Will whenever they would come upon it. It was rather quick to establish that Jack would give Ophelia a longboat to travel after Will in—so long as she was quiet when she followed him, she would have no trouble rowing up to the _Dutchman._

With that first part of the plan completed, Ophelia and Jack would often sit in the Captain’s quarters and think about how they might get ahold of the key to Davy Jones’s chest. Their biggest problem, however, was that they’d consistently get sidetracked from their plotting by telling each other old stories.

Ophelia spoke to Jack of all the wild adventures she’d gotten into as a thieving child, and in return, Jack regaled her with tales of his wildest exploits and closest fights and mutinies. For long hours, they could continue their discussions, only remembering their original purpose after the sun had long since set.

Despite the fact that they rarely spoke much in daylight, Ophelia could not help but notice that Will seemed suspicious. He would spend almost all of his time with her—not that this bothered Ophelia in any way—as if to make sure she wasn’t plotting anything. Despite his attempts to discover her ruse, however, he didn’t seem to have done so.

Ophelia and Jack would often share amused looks when Will wasn’t looking.

One evening, however, Will cornered Ophelia while she was standing calmly, watching the waves, and said, “I know you’re planning something, Ophelia.”

She pretended to be surprised. “Planning what?”

Will smirked. “Nice try. But I know you. I know you’re going to try and follow me onto the _Dutchman._ I suspect you’ve been enlisting Jack’s help.”

“Do you really think I’d need his help if I **_was_** planning to follow you?”

“No,” he answered, turning so that he was looking Ophelia straight in the eyes as he spoke. “But I know that you would ask him for help anyway, if only to ensure that your plot would work.”

Ophelia had to resist a shiver with how accurate Will was being. She’d been relatively sure that he hadn’t figured anything out… but here they were. Instead of acting guilty, however, she merely raised an eyebrow and sighed, “How quaint. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“That comment could be directed back to **_you,_** ” announced Will, raising an eyebrow in a mocking manner. “Don’t deny it, Ophie. I saw you entering the Captain’s quarters last night.”

That made her freeze. She suddenly found she couldn’t look Will in the eye.

“Care to confess?” asked Will, observing her change in demeanor. “Or will you try and tell me that you aren’t, in fact, planning to follow me, but that you’ve found a special **_solace_** with Jack?”

Ophelia coughed somewhat and started choking—that made Will laugh. But at last, she relented. “Very **_well,_** ” she huffed. “So I was asking for his help. But it is for good reason, if I may say so myself. You are a magnet for trouble, William Turner.”

“I can defend myself. Or have you forgotten?” smirked Will.

His comment made her exclaim in shock—he burst into laughter seeing the expression on her face. He knew as well as she did that he was quoting her from countless occasions throughout the journey.

Finally, Ophelia regained her wits to slap his cheek halfheartedly. “Will Turner!” she exclaimed.

“Ophelia Bennett!” he returned, dancing out of the way as she lunged to hit him again.

She couldn’t swallow her laughter as he held out his hands in a challenging gesture, as if inviting her to try it again. Knowing that he would just run around and tire her out, Ophelia withdrew her sword and mused, “I wonder what would happen if I were to threaten to never leave your side until we were both aboard the _Dutchman?_ ”

Will looked amused by the thought. “It would certainly ensure that we were together for the most perilous part of the journey.”

With a grin on her face, Ophelia sheathed her sword. “Well, that’s exactly what I want to do, so perhaps I shall do it.”

Will groaned and shook his head, which made Ophelia smirk. Before he could speak, however, she added, “But perhaps that won’t be necessary. Perhaps I could bargain something with you… Jack and I haven’t only been talking about how to sneak me on the ghost ship, but about where the key to the chest might be.”

This certainly caught his attention. All facetiousness vanished from Will’s face as he looked at Ophelia and inquired, “You really think you know where it is?”

Ophelia nodded, though it was a touch hesitant. “Jack and I think it’ll be somewhere in the Captain’s quarters. We’ll have to figure out a way to get inside.”

“You mean **_I_** will have to figure a way to get inside.”

Now it was Ophelia who groaned. “Will, honestly! This is not your fight alone! I came here to fight it with you, so that we might both return to Port Royal with happiness in reach. You have someone willing to assist you—why will you not take it?!”

“It is not your responsibility, Ophelia!” retorted Will. “I am facing losing Elizabeth! How do you think I would feel if I lost you as well?!”

“At least you **_have_** Elizabeth. If you lose me, you will still have her. But if I lose you? Who else do I have, Will?!”

For a moment, the two simply glared at each other… it was Will who sighed and spoke next. “Ophelia, we are being premature. I am supposed to simply sneak onto the ship and steal the key. If it is in the Captain’s quarters, then I can find it and sneak back to the _Pearl._ I am not going to the _Dutchman_ to slay every living crew member there. Having you accompany me might throw things off.”

At this, Ophelia raised an eyebrow. “Or it could make the search that much quicker.”

“God—” Will started, slapping a hand to his forehead. After a split second, however, he removed it and placed his hands on Ophelia’s shoulders, his dark eyes intense. “It will be dangerous, yes. But I cannot let you risk yourself for this. It is my mission, and if I am to fail, that failure shall be my price to pay. Not yours.”

“Then why do I feel as if **_I_** will be the one paying the price if you are caught?” whispered Ophelia. Her hands were shaking as she gently placed one against Will’s face. “If I do not see you again…”

Will smiled and kissed her forehead. “But I **_will_** see you again. I promised you then—and so I promise you now. Remain here on the _Pearl,_ and I shall see you again.”

Without waiting for her response, Will smiled and walked away, leaving Ophelia staring helplessly after him.

Once he was gone, Jack approached and, half a leer upon his face, quipped, “Having a little domestic spat?”

Ophelia shot him a dirty look—the smirk on Jack’s face abruptly vanished. Seeing it, she sighed and muttered, “I assume you heard everything, then?”

“I wouldn’t say everything. Perhaps the vast majority of it, yes…”

“Good. Then you’ll have a solid opinion on what you think I should do.”

Jack was silent for a moment before he shrugged and said, “Well, lassie, I’d say William knows what he’s doing. **_Not_** that I believe him, of course,” he added quickly, seeing the expression on her face. “It’s still your choice whether or not you want to go after him. We shall be reaching the _Dutchman’s_ location sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?” asked Ophelia, downcast. It would be harder to follow Will in broad daylight…

“Tomorrow morning,” confirmed Jack, raising a goblet of rum. “You’ve got that much time to decide.”

“I’ve already decided. I’m going after him.”

“Then you’d better be prepared to deal with William’s wrath,” muttered Jack, sipping from the goblet.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. “I’ve dealt with him for twelve years,” she declared. “I can deal with his wrath better than anyone—even Elizabeth.” She rather spat the other woman’s name, but it couldn’t be helped… it was Elizabeth’s fault that Will and Ophelia were even **_in_** this mess, anyway.

The venom did not escape Jack’s notice either. Raising his eyebrows, he decreed in an attempt to calm her, “I do not doubt you. After all, you’ve put up with **_me_** for an impressive amount of time.”

**_That_** made Ophelia laugh. She shot Jack a gratified grin; the Captain returned it. After a moment of silence between them, Jack said, “You should probably get some rest, love. It’s getting late, and you’ll need your rest for tomorrow morning.”

Realizing that Jack was right, she nodded and said, “Thanks, Captain,” before heading off to get some sleep.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, Ophelia awoke. She blinked groggily… lanterns were glowing on deck, and she could’ve sworn that she had awoken to the sound of screaming.

Confused and wondering if whoever was on duty needed help, Ophelia stretched and put on a loose blouse, her trousers, and grabbed her sword. She could always just head back to sleep if it was a false alarm—but maybe they were getting close to the _Dutchman._ Then she could wait until Will set off…

Ophelia walked cautiously up on deck—she heard Jack’s voice somewhere above. As she emerged, she called, “Jack? What’s going on?”

The answer was waiting for her.

Ophelia inhaled sharply and stumbled backwards, unsheathing her sword and pointing it straight at the humanoid squid standing three feet away from Jack.

“Get away from him!” she shrieked, sprinting towards Jack and pulling him away from the squid.

“It’s alright, lassie,” murmured Jack, but Ophelia wouldn’t have it.

“Jack! Jack, what’s going on?” she exclaimed. Just then, a pair of meaty hands clasped over her shoulders, yanking her away from the Captain.

Ophelia cried out in shock and anger and stomped on the foot of the person behind her—there was a howl of pain, and then she elbowed the man in the stomach. On impact, however, she felt a sharp stab and felt a spurt of blood trail down her elbow.

She whirled around to glare at the man who’d grabbed her—her face paled. It wasn’t a man at all; it was another sea creature, one with a less distinguishable form. Spikes protruded all throughout his body, and he was reaching for her again.

With a yelp, Ophelia lunged forward and impaled the creature in the stomach with her sword.

The creature doubled over, collapsing to its knees on the ground.

“Calm down, love!” shouted Jack, stumbling forward to drag her away from the creature. He pressed her close to his body as if to protect her as he mumbled, “It’s alright. I’ve got it under control.”

Ophelia, however, had just finished perusing the scene. Her face still white, she whispered, “Do you?” She locked eyes with Ragetti and Pintel, both of whom were captured by more of the hideously disfigured monsters. They looked no less than terrified. Her gaze swept over the deck and she noted that Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton were all restrained the same way.

“Yes, lassie,” soothed Jack. “All under control.”

“Where’s Will?”

She received no answer. “Jack?” she asked slowly. “Where is Will?”

But Jack wouldn’t look at her. Instead, his focus returned to the squid in front of him. Ophelia gazed at the squid and tried not to flinch. She had never, in her wildest dreams, expected to encounter anything like **_this_** during her voyage…

She noticed that the squid was staring back at her curiously, as if trying to remember where he had seen her before. Despite its monstrous appearance, its eyes were a humanoid shade of blue-green—very much like the ocean in the daylight.

For a moment, there was silence, until Ophelia decided to say, “What?” as fiercely as she could.

Naturally, the word was more a squeak than anything fierce. Clearing her throat, she asked again, “What? What do you want?”

But it just looked at her.

“Ah… lass,” murmured Jack in her ear. “Do you happen to have any idea who this is?”

She narrowed her eyes at Jack, wondering if he was playing some sort of joke on her. But as she gazed over the monsters that were aboard the _Pearl,_ she realized how close they must’ve come to the _Dutchman._

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly. “Davy Jones.”

“Aye,” replied Jack. “Bad news himself.”

Jones didn’t seem to like that answer. His gaze tore away from Ophelia—much to her relief—and back to Jack as he spat, “You have a debt to pay! You’ve been Captain of the _Pearl_ for thirteen years! **_That_** was our agreement!”

With each exclamation, he made one more step forward towards Jack. Ophelia reached for her sword only to remember she had embedded it in one of Jones’s crew members.

“Technically, I was only Captain for two years, then I was **_viciously_** mutinied upon,” replied Jack. As he spoke, he pushed Ophelia out of the way of Jones’s immediate path, exposing himself fully to the squid’s fury.

“Then yeh were a poor Captain, but a Captain nonetheless,” retorted Jones. “Have you not introduced yourself all these years as **_Captain_** Jack Sparrow?” His voice was the slightest bit indistinct, as if he were underwater. Ophelia noted that his stature was normal… but his face was vaguely reminiscent of an octopus’s, including the tentacles for a beard. One of his hands was a bundle of tentacles—the other was a lobster claw. His legs resembled a lobster’s as well.

Ophelia wondered what Jones had undergone to become like this.

There was a noise of muffled pain; Ophelia looked over just in time to see the creature she’d impaled yank her sword out of its body. She gasped and watched, with wide eyes, as it hurled her weapon upon the deck.

Jack noticed her surprise and whistled, frantically gesturing below deck. “Oi. Love. Go back underneath.”

“No!” she retorted. “Not without Will. Jack, **_where is he?_** ”

The Captain flinched underneath Ophelia’s intense tone. His eyes were the slightest bit apologetic as he finally sighed, “I didn’t want to do this, lassie, but… I hate to tell you that I traded William to the _Dutchman_ as payment for my debt.”


End file.
